Immanuel's return to consciousness was not greeted by the chimera's presence this time. Standing up slowly, he noticed the shift within himself; everything was familiar yet filtered through an uncanny veil of alteration. His hands looked the same, yet they seemed foreign.

He traversed the room, a lone figure among the cold stones. "So, what now?" he questioned the silence.

The hallways of the summoning place were a labyrinth, each door a gateway to another chamber mirroring his own room. When Immanuel opened the first room, the skeletal remains of someone long gone greeted him. Scared, he closed the door again. Behind another was a macabre tableau of violence with blood-stained sheets.

As he approached the room where he was thrown into the vat of liquid, he felt himself getting nervous. Inside, the familiar equipment stood around the now-absent vat. He walked in.

A white dinner plate at a desk summoned vivid flashes of his life—a daughter's laughter, a wife's touch—tangible ghosts that clawed at his soul. He started to cry silently. After a long time, he spoke: "What can happen once can happen again. A door goes two ways."

Immanuel continued his exploration. The labyrinth was constant in its monotony, save for the rooms filled with dead things.

Halfway through yet another hallway, he found a circular chamber. Here, he saw black leather clothing that fit as if it was tailored for him, simple boots, a sword that was modest yet firm in his grasp, and a walking stick of white wood.

The last object was a ruby. When Immanuel picked it up, it seared into his palm, and a vision opened before him: an inventory of items—stones of various shapes and sizes, a tent, an axe, and many more things. The ruby branded himself on his wrist. He looked at it and jokingly thought, "Damn, my first tattoo."

There was a door on the other side of the room, and he stepped through.

He walked out and realized he was under an alien sky. "This is beautiful," he murmured, a whisper lost amidst the vastness. It smelled of fertile earth—a comforting, familiar smell. He took a few tentative steps, the soft rustle of grass his only companion, then turned to look back.

Desolation settled in his chest as his eyes found only the wild plains—no door, building, or hint of the structure he had exited. "No, no, no, no!" desperately, he searched the ground, fingers clawing for a sign or anything that might return him.

But there was nothing.

He sat on the ground, the vast loneliness of this world pressing down on him. He was struck by the acute memory of his daughter's bright, smiling face—a memory of a life that seemed to belong to another person now. The weight of solitude bore down on him like a physical force, and he endured its crushing presence until it ebbed into a dull ache.

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His focus shifted to the peculiar ruby embedded in his skin—the gateway to an inventory of items, his lifeline here. Out of curiosity, he summoned an object that resembled fruit. It shimmered into solidity in his hand. A weak smile played on his lips when it happened.

Hesitantly, he inspected it, marveling at its reality. With a tentative bite, the flavors exploded across his senses—tangy and sweet.

With the taste of the strange fruit lingering, a resolve settled within him. He stood and started walking. The grass whispered around him, and the stars silently bore witness to his passage.

Immanuel found his body feeling almost weightless, and he started walking and then running. Not long after that, he was a streak across the plains, an arrow unbound by the bow. This sudden freedom in movement was exhilarating; each leap and bound was a dance with gravity he had never before experienced.

A towering termite-like structure that broke the landscape's monotony caught his eye. He adjusted his course and sped toward it. The structure was far bigger than he imagined. Standing before it, he felt the hesitation that comes from staring into the unknown. Several tunnels led into the ground under the tower.

The imposing structure seemed a world unto itself, and while curiosity urged him to explore its depths, caution held him back.

"No," he decided aloud, his voice steady despite the intrigue that tugged at him. "Best not to wander into the belly of the unknown without light or knowledge."

Turning from the intriguing but potentially perilous mud construct, he paused to think about his next course of action. He observed that there was no civilization, whatever form it took, in this new world he found himself in. There was no light pollution, no sound of machinery, and no chatter he could follow. There was only the vast expanse of land around him and the stars above him.

With a thought, he summoned the inventory before him, seeking among the strange objects for anything that resembled light or guidance. A torch, a compass, or even a map would be invaluable if such things existed here.

Immanuel's eyes caught sight of a tent within the inventory's strange, shimmering interface. It prompted him to put some distance between himself and the massive earthen structure that loomed behind him like a silent sentinel of the plains. With a fluidity that still seemed otherworldly to him, he began to run, the grasslands becoming a green blur beneath the stars.

He chose a random direction and let his newfound speed carry him across the landscape. Glancing back only once, he saw the structure reduced to a mere speck on the horizon. Then, he summoned the tent from his inventory, which materialized into his hand as something lightweight and compact despite its actual size.

With a casual flick of his wrist, the tent unfolded, nestled onto the grass, and displaced the stems with a gentle wave. Immanuel stepped inside, his body a mere silhouette against the dusky backdrop of night. The interior had a surprisingly homely feel, thanks to the presence of thick brown carpet.

Surrendering to comfort, Immanuel lay down on the carpet, feeling the oddity of the day seep away into the carpet beneath him. He closed his eyes, and sleep quickly overtook him.